Mike Teevee's Endgame
by RustieIron
Summary: Mike Teevee was in need of a lesson, but Mr. Wonka never thought of the pain that comes with the process.((I suck at descriptions and this is my first story so it's gonna be a little bit bad, sorry!))


**Note/Slight Spoilers**: Since the directors of the '71 film didn't have the CGI make Mike paper-thin and tall and I'm not killing off any of the kids, in this version, he'll be reverted back to normal. So, sorry if this fanfiction is not staying true to the story, but I'm personally thinking of what would have happened in the 1971 version (if Mike survived).

* * *

Mike was a bad kid. In Wonka's eyes, at least. He ate exploding candy, and he was specifically told not to. Then, he runs up to a platform and uses Wonkavision without listening. Mr. Wonka was not a psychotic man, though, and he did not have a complete hatred towards children. In fact, Mike was more on the behaved side.

Willy Wonka decided to put nine-year-old Mike Teevee in the taffy puller, which would most likely stretch him out until he was normal. Though he knew somewhere in his mind how it would be pure agony, he didn't want the child's punishment to be long-term.

He had a separate taffy puller, though—one for objects/humans and one for candy. He'd use the object taffy puller if his tests were either too small or warped somehow from Wonkavision, which would happen often. However, it was never needed for humans, which was the thing he was worried about.

* * *

Mike was sitting in his mom's purse. The space was dark yet cool—it seemed like the objects in the purse were trees. There was lipstick, a comb, and oddly, some strange tiny clothes that were about his size. He knew for a fact that his mom wouldn't bring something like that, so he assumed that Wonka was the one that dropped them in there.

The suit he was wearing felt uncomfortable with the clothes he already had on, so he took them off and put the tiny clothes on, since Wonka must have dropped them in for a reason.

Right away, he noticed how while the clothes looked like a regular outfit, they were unrealistically stretchy, and he thought that he could probably stretch them as far as he could. They looked like what a person would wear in gym—white t-shirt, blue shorts.

He spent time in the purse. It was dark, lonely, and quiet in there, and it was constantly shaking, but the experience was overall astonishing to him: being teleported and turning small was cool. But once he's left alone in the void, he has time to think of what he did. Mike sat down and hugged his knees. He was now left alone with these thoughts.

_Maybe I made a mistake_, he thought.

There was a long pause before Mike shook his thoughts away. No, he can't regret it! He was sent by television; the one thing he loves in the world, for crying out loud! But he couldn't help but think…why did it feel so wrong?

The long, long walk suddenly came to an abrupt stop. The purse shook, and the kid was rattled and knocked against the huge comb that was in the bag.

"Aah!" He yelped. Rubbing his head, Mike could hear an Oompa Loompa talking to another, yet he could only hear the one that was holding his bag.

"Mr. Wonka took the kids to the Wonkavision room, and one of them decided to use it on themselves. Yes, yes, very small. He's in his mom's purse right now—boss told me to take him to the Taffy Puller like we did on the test dummy. That didn't go well last time. What? No. He's a child, we can't kill him. I know, I know."

Right away, he knew the feeling of regret was right, and he _did_ do something wrong. After hearing the last part of the conversation, he panicked. He felt like he was going to a dentist appointment—he didn't want to and he hated it.

Thinking of a plan, the kid hid right behind the comb he knocked his head on. Then, bright light was suddenly present, and a huge hand was rummaging through the purse—a hand belonging to the Oompa Loompa carrying the bag.

After a few moments of trying to hide, the Oompa Loompa found him.

"Hey! What is this?!" Is what he wanted to yell so he could sound tough. But instead, it came out as, "h-hey…wh-"

The Oompa Loompa ignored him and put him in a very tiny chair. Ironically, he could fit in it perfectly.

"Alright, kid," the Oompa Loompa said, "a few things you have to know—don't faint, vomit, or try to wiggle out during the process. The machinery doesn't grip onto you _that _strong, and so if you faint, you'll mess up the procedure. Vomiting could possibly mess up the machinery, and wiggling out will make you look like a cardboard cutout. And most important—you're not going to die and don't blame Mr. Wonka."

Mike nodded.

"And drink this," the Oompa Loompa handed him a very tiny bottle filled with purple stuff. He didn't know what it was going to do, but he figured it was important, and he drank it. It tasted like water, just dyed purple. Actually, it tasted like nothing.

When he saw that he was done drinking, orange creature left the room and could be seen through the window flipping a switch.

The kid stayed in the chair and slouched. In the room that was probably medium-sized to a regular human, he felt as if he was getting smaller by the minute.

_Yeah, I probably made a major mistake, _he thought. _But is there anything I can do about it?_

Lost in thought and regret, the kid started feeling guilt. He asked himself multiple questions. What if he ruined Mr. Wonka's things? What if he never gets big again? Maybe he shouldn't have done it.

Suddenly, a bright red light started flashing, interrupting the questions and thoughts in Mike's head. A little bit startled, he looked up to see a flashing sign that read, "IN USE."

The blaring siren signalled that they were going to start. Horrified, he shot out of the chair and began running, but as soon as he did, he felt someone or something grab him. Panicking, he started kicking and screaming, but he remembered how he was told not to wiggle out of the machinery. None of the attempts were working, and so he stopped struggling. He was lifted and strapped onto an unrecognizable device.

He was confused and terrified; what was going to happen?

Another blaring sound interrupted his thoughts—it was the sound of a whirring machine. In a split second, the machine, which appeared to be the Taffy Puller, started the process.

The machine started to stretch the extremely tiny child.

At first, there was no notable pain. But then, it started getting intense.

The feeling of being stretched first felt like growing pains, but if he was growing way too fast for his own good. The first few minutes went slow and easy on him but transitioned into something that felt like a medieval torture machine. After he got past the torture feeling, it started getting even worse. He's seen something like this before, where he was forced to watch a documentary on old-time torture. Needless to say, it was scarring. However, he's always thought of how cool it looked and how if he were in that machine, he'd have loads of fun.

How ironic.

Suddenly, the pace of the machine lifted and was going much faster than a human could take. He almost felt as if he was going to get ripped apart any second, but for some odd reason, he couldn't rip at all.

Aside from "am I doing to die?" there was one question, though, burned in Mike's mind—why? Oh, that's a silly question. He knew very well why this had to happen. Sent by television, turned tiny, now needs to be reverted back to normal. But did it _have_ to take this turn? Did this really _have_ to happen? There was probably a reverse button _somewhere_ on that machine. Did he mess the machine up? Did he mess _himself_ up? He was just a kid, for crying out loud! He didn't know the seriousness of it! He couldn't have. A nine-year-old can't comprehend this type of stuff.

Then, the machine started working quicker, like a car speeding from the apocalypse.

Mike was screaming. The pain of being stretched in every direction was more painful than when he was thrown into pots and pans in the Inventing Room. More painful than when Veruca shoved him onto a rock because he was blocking her way in the Chocolate Room. This was much worse—it lasted for a long time, and there wasn't a second where it didn't feel like pure agony. He couldn't do anything about it; he just had to let it happen.

"AH! MAKE IT STOP!"

All of a sudden, it started getting even more painful. Why wasn't he ripping apart? Then, he remembered something. The Oompa Loompa told him to drink something. A _normal_ human wouldn't last this long.

The machine wasn't stopping. He started to feel faint.

"You're not done yet, kid!" an Oompa Loompa told him.

But why? Wasn't there a reverse button on the machine? There could have been ways less painful for this. He wondered if Wonka really hated him since he seemingly wanted him to go through this.

"This is too much," he screamed, "I'm sorry! Just make it stop!"

Yet there was nobody that could answer him, as he was still not back to normal. He couldn't imagine what he would have looked like if he messed up the procedure and turned into a human cardboard cutout.

The machine's power was cranked all the way to full speed. The pain suddenly was worse than before, and the feeling of getting crushed suddenly overcame him. He felt pressure everywhere. The Oompa Loompa specifically told Mike not to faint during the ordeal because going limp would interfere with the process, but the pain was unbearable and he started to see stars. Eventually, the stars faded into black and Mike passed out.


End file.
